Don't Let Go(25)

She took another swallow, and my skin tingled with anxiety I couldn’t even name.
“Becca asked me how to get on birth control.”


Chapter 7

I remembered being Becca’s age. All too well. I even remembered thinking how enlightened and cool I’d be if the subject ever came up with my own kid. I was a moron.
And all I could do with my decidedly uncool self was sit there and listen to my heart thumping in my ears. The music hovered in the background somewhere as I visualized Becca pregnant with her crooked hair, or taking an infant up to her room to feed it and losing it in the hovel that was her bed.
“Jules?”
My name broke through, and I felt Ruthie’s hand on mine.
“Jules, are you okay?”
“She’s having sex?” I said, my voice sounding scratchy.
“I don’t think so,” Ruthie said. “Not yet.”
“Not yet,” I echoed, covering my face. As I dropped my hands and met her eyes again, a different switch flipped. “Hang on, how do you know this?” I said, sitting straighter.
Ruthie tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, a telltale sign with me that she was uncomfortable. My head spun with the possible conversations.
“She stopped at the store today after school,” Ruthie began. “After you left. And we got to talking while I was cleaning up.”
Today. The day she flew in the door and got ready in a flash. Left with a group of girls. Wasn’t it girls? She just said a group. Shit.
“Okay.” The alcohol suddenly sat like acid in my stomach. The giant platter of loaded nachos and jalape?o poppers we’d decided to share arrived, and I grabbed one almost before it even landed on the table. I knew that feeling of curiosity and adrenaline and lust. And I knew where it could lead her if she wasn’t clearheaded about it. “She’s got a boyfriend? I didn’t even know she was seeing anybody.”
It occurred to me as I shoved a second one into my mouth that it was my second time that week to have nachos. And then it occurred to me that having such a meaningless thought at such a crucial revelation might mean I was losing it.
Ruthie eyed me as I pushed another chip loaded with shredded chicken, dripping cheese, and steaming beans in my mouth before she spoke.
“Anyway—she started talking about this boy she met—”
“Met?” I said, ceasing the chewing. “She’s just met someone and she’s already having this conversation?”
Ruthie smiled as you would to a frustrated child. “Calm down, Jules. This is why she came to me and not you.”
And that was just the icy dousing I needed to jolt me into silence. I bit my lip to fight back the burn that started in my chest and crept upward. That was the crux of it. Becca had gone to Ruthie to talk about the most intimate of things. Something I couldn’t have gone to my mother with either. I blinked and swallowed hard as that reality pushed the burn up into my eyes.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Ruthie said, grabbing my hand again, but I shook my head.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Go on, I’ll be good.”
She took a long swallow of her drink and glanced over to where Patrick was standing at the bar, chatting up the bartender.
“She met a boy, his name is Mark.”
“Mark,” I echoed. “From school?”
“I didn’t ask, but I assume so,” Ruthie said. “His dad is one of Patrick’s crew.”
My ears rang with the information. I’d seen Patrick with his crew before, most of them much rougher-looking than he was. A young version of that?
“And he’s pressuring Becca for sex?” I asked, hearing my voice go up a little higher and louder than normal. At precisely the wrong time.
“What?”
The deep voice was behind me and louder than mine ever dreamed of being, and everything in me cringed. I turned just as Hayden stepped up to our table, looking at me all wild-eyed. With one look I knew he was at least three or four beers into a good buzz, but unfortunately still very coherent.
“No, no, no, no,” Ruthie said, waving hands at both of us before something blew up. “Nobody’s pressuring anybody for anything. Shit,” she added, dropping her head for a moment. “This is out of hand. She was just asking questions is all.”
“Who’s the dad?” I asked.
“What dad?” Hayden asked. “And what the hell is going on with Becca? Why’s she asking questions about sex?”
“You know, this was a private conversation,” Ruthie said, glaring up at him.
“Not anymore it’s not,” he said.
I held my head together with my palms. “Hayden, it’s okay that she’s curious, that’s normal.”
It just wasn’t okay that she didn’t come to me with that curiosity. That she was going so far as to ask about birth control. That wasn’t okay. But I wasn’t fueling that flame in front of Hayden.
“I heard you say that someone was pressuring her—”
“I was just—” I stopped and took a deep breath. “It was my misunderstanding, okay? I was flying off the handle just like you are now.” I turned back to Ruthie, who looked as if she’d rather chew a brick. “Who’s the dad?”
“I think she said his last name was Wallace,” Ruthie said quietly.
“Why does it matter who the dad is?” Hayden said.
“Back in a minute,” I said to Ruthie as I got up to join Patrick at the bar before he could rejoin us. I was frazzled enough without Hayden getting in the mix. At the look on her face for being left with him, I made a mental note to buy her another margarita.